When Bilko left the carnival that afternoon, he was wearing a t-shirt and carried his Pall Malls rolled up in his right arm sleeve.
He thought he should call Lori before going over, so he stopped at a bar near the address on the card she gave him, he could get something to drink, relax and think a little.
It was a quiet place with a billiard table in the rear. The lights were low, a few people talking. The lissome golden spirits he drank tickled his spine and relaxed his neck.
He could talk to a friend if he wanted to, he told himself. He didn’t have to say anything to Hormat. It was his business. He was a living, breathing person, after all.
An image of Lori’s eyes, her expression changing ever so subtly as he enters her, flashed through his mind. No! That wouldn’t happen. It would be the end of everything. So, what was he doing there, anyway?, he asked himself, but the question seemed irrelevant.
Bilko lit a cigarette and withdrew her card from his back pocket. He put it on the bar in front of him, careful not to get it wet, and stared at it for a long time before picking it up.
In front of the pay phone, he was twisting from side to side, nervously passing the phone from hand to hand, patting his stomach and wishing it was smaller. If she didn’t answer on the third ring, he would hang up and go home. He could just go home.
She answered on the second. It was her. That was Lori’s voice, but more real, alive than he remembered it. Bilko stopped for a second, then pushed on.
He coughed out a crusty ‘Hi, its me, Billy!’ and received a delighted response. His arm across his chest, he squeezed his right bicep hard.
If she wasn’t busy…
She wasn’t busy…. Just reading.
Bilko put down the receiver and patted his stomach again, tucking it inside his pants, and left the bar.
On his way to her apartment, he bought some flowers and a small box of candy and a bottle of wine.
He was exterior now, operating his reluctant, but excited body from the outside. He got out of the car, buzzed her apartment, heard the door unbolt and walked up the dimly lit stairs.
Then, she was standing in front of him in bare feet, pajama bottoms and a heavy flannel shirt covered with teddy bears. She raised up on her toes and put her arms around him.
Bilko could feel the full length of her body against his, he picked her up and pulled her close with one hand on her back and the other on her buttocks.
Putting her down, his hands slid from her stomach over the smooth curves of her hips to her legs- it was as though she was wearing nothing at all.
He grinned.
She took the gifts inside to the coffee table in front of the couch.
“Well, come in, Billy,” she said, smiling at the man at the door.
Bilko flushed a little and laughed, his hands were sweaty. He walked to the couch and sat, watching her. He wanted to be familiar and charming but he couldn’t think of anything to say, funny or poignant.
“So, tell me what has been happening,” he said, looking away.
Lori laughed a little and said, “Let me open that wine.”
She got up to get a corkscrew from the kitchen and passed Bilko touching his knees with her fingertips.
That was the moment. He could hold back no longer, he either had to have her or be refused, and it would be fine either way.
Bilko reached for her flannel shirt and when she didn’t resist, he pulled her to him. Then he put his hands under her shirt and caressed her breasts.
He moaned audibly and Lori put her arms around him as a mother with a child. Lori leaned down to kiss him.
Her lips were soft and warm, nulling what inhibitions he had left.
He kissed her hard, pulling her to the couch. His arms and hands moved under her body pressing her to him.
Her shirt was off and he was kissing her chest and breasts and stomach. She was struggling with his pants.
She said, “Billy, let’s go into the other room.”
Bilko stopped.
“Come on, lets go into the other room, it will be nicer.”
Bilko stood, shuddering, shaking, anguished and said, “I can’t. I have to go.” and then, “I am sorry.” He left without looking back.
Only moments after he arrived, Bilko was again in the car smoking a cigarette, driving back to the bar he had just left, unsure what had happened, thinking nothing had happened, wishing it had never happened.